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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Notebook
Spike raced towards Twilight’s new bedroom, claws fighting for purchase in the hardwood. He was yelling before he even cleared the stairs. “Twilight, come fast! Everypony is waiting to hear how you defeated Nightmare — I mean, rescued Princess Luna!”
“Twilight?” Spike stopped and tiptoed the rest of the way. As soon as he crested the stairs he found why his tutor and best friend didn’t answer; it was that old notebook, the one with her cutie mark on the cover.
His face mellowed. “Fine. I will hold them for a while. But you better show up, they are waiting for you.”
From her bed, Twilight stole a glance at the retreating little dragon, silently thanking him, and went back to the notebook in her hooves. Repeating her old ritual, she turned the first page by hoof; going back was too personal for even magic.
She looked lovingly at the clumsy drawing of her parents giving a book — this notebook — to her. She giggled; They thought it would keep her from drawing on the walls, but she treasured her little book more than the walls.
She slowly turned another page; her first “official” ABC, drawn by mouth yet. She lovingly ran a hoof over the flawed “W,” remembering how she nearly cried over it, until her father told her that it’s the little flaws that make us unique; she still wibble a bit when writing it.
The next pages mix in a blur. There was a drawing of her old home, with Canterlot Mountain and two swirly clouds behind. Above it all, smiling, the best drawing she could make of Princess Celestia. The following pages had her little discoveries, first written with her mouth and later with magic; all the things she found about magic, with a few stains from when she thought she wouldn’t pass the entry test to Celestia’s School. Whenever her tears fell, it was not to those pages, with her prized knowledge, that she turned to, but to her early drawings; the trust and pride of her parents, and her faith in Celestia, always gave her the strength to continue.
Then came the school. Twilight would always be proud to have studied in Celestia’s school, but she couldn’t help noticing that she wrote almost nothing good about it on her notebook. She should have been happy, but… the only pages about the school had her fears, her disappointments; the happy pages were all about her BBBFF, her parents, or Spike. She had turned to her notebook as if it was her closest friend, to console her when she was lost; she now could see that, perhaps, what she had written should have been shared with real ponies. Or a real dragon.
She turned another page, into unfamiliar territory. It was the first time she looked at this page, the one she had nearly ripped off, after fixing it the best she could. When she fixed the page, it was done in defiance: when she was sent to Ponyville Twilight thought Celestia had forsaken her, telling her that all her previous training was not important; she was intent on proving Celestia wrong. But now, in hindsight, she would remember it as finding that, no matter how important knowledge was, there were other things more important; Twilight had been wrong, and she couldn’t be happier about it.
Twilight turned the last page; it was still blank. In her anger she had considered writing into it the proof that Celestia had been wrong; proving that she had bested the best pony in Equestria, she had thought, would have made for the most important page of her most important book.
She breathed deeply, and took something from her saddlebags; it was time to complete the notebook. No magic; she had started the book without it, and would end also without it.
Affixing it to the last page as well as she could, she considered this latest day of her life. She had thought she might be leaving behind the home she had in Celestia’s school, among magic, books, classes and assignments; but that was no home. Perhaps her home was always meant to be here, embracing the friendship she had shunned in the past.
She looked again at their smiling faces, in the photo that was now a part of her little notebook. As she gently closed it, Twilight mused that she had been right about one thing; that last page was certainly the most important.
“Twilight?” Spike stopped and tiptoed the rest of the way. As soon as he crested the stairs he found why his tutor and best friend didn’t answer; it was that old notebook, the one with her cutie mark on the cover.
His face mellowed. “Fine. I will hold them for a while. But you better show up, they are waiting for you.”
From her bed, Twilight stole a glance at the retreating little dragon, silently thanking him, and went back to the notebook in her hooves. Repeating her old ritual, she turned the first page by hoof; going back was too personal for even magic.
She looked lovingly at the clumsy drawing of her parents giving a book — this notebook — to her. She giggled; They thought it would keep her from drawing on the walls, but she treasured her little book more than the walls.
She slowly turned another page; her first “official” ABC, drawn by mouth yet. She lovingly ran a hoof over the flawed “W,” remembering how she nearly cried over it, until her father told her that it’s the little flaws that make us unique; she still wibble a bit when writing it.
The next pages mix in a blur. There was a drawing of her old home, with Canterlot Mountain and two swirly clouds behind. Above it all, smiling, the best drawing she could make of Princess Celestia. The following pages had her little discoveries, first written with her mouth and later with magic; all the things she found about magic, with a few stains from when she thought she wouldn’t pass the entry test to Celestia’s School. Whenever her tears fell, it was not to those pages, with her prized knowledge, that she turned to, but to her early drawings; the trust and pride of her parents, and her faith in Celestia, always gave her the strength to continue.
Then came the school. Twilight would always be proud to have studied in Celestia’s school, but she couldn’t help noticing that she wrote almost nothing good about it on her notebook. She should have been happy, but… the only pages about the school had her fears, her disappointments; the happy pages were all about her BBBFF, her parents, or Spike. She had turned to her notebook as if it was her closest friend, to console her when she was lost; she now could see that, perhaps, what she had written should have been shared with real ponies. Or a real dragon.
She turned another page, into unfamiliar territory. It was the first time she looked at this page, the one she had nearly ripped off, after fixing it the best she could. When she fixed the page, it was done in defiance: when she was sent to Ponyville Twilight thought Celestia had forsaken her, telling her that all her previous training was not important; she was intent on proving Celestia wrong. But now, in hindsight, she would remember it as finding that, no matter how important knowledge was, there were other things more important; Twilight had been wrong, and she couldn’t be happier about it.
Twilight turned the last page; it was still blank. In her anger she had considered writing into it the proof that Celestia had been wrong; proving that she had bested the best pony in Equestria, she had thought, would have made for the most important page of her most important book.
She breathed deeply, and took something from her saddlebags; it was time to complete the notebook. No magic; she had started the book without it, and would end also without it.
Affixing it to the last page as well as she could, she considered this latest day of her life. She had thought she might be leaving behind the home she had in Celestia’s school, among magic, books, classes and assignments; but that was no home. Perhaps her home was always meant to be here, embracing the friendship she had shunned in the past.
She looked again at their smiling faces, in the photo that was now a part of her little notebook. As she gently closed it, Twilight mused that she had been right about one thing; that last page was certainly the most important.